


You Take My Breath Away

by skyj132



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kinda Kinky, Loki likes his hair pulled heh, One-Shot (Maybe), Pleasurable Vampire Bites, Sub Loki, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyj132/pseuds/skyj132
Summary: Loki gets pleasured by a vampire who also happens to be his best friend. Kinda kinky, kinda cute.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 'You Take My Breath Away' by Queen was my fav song while reading this ;)

“Please, Loki? Please?” I fluttered my eyelashes hopefully. 

Loki met my gaze, and said with the exasperation of one who had said it many times before, “No.”

I flopped down on the bed with a disappointed sigh. After a moment, Loki joined me. “Why do you want to braid my hair so badly?” he asked. 

I turned to look at him, resisting the urge to blush at his proximity. Swallowed. Pushing down my feelings, I forced my racing heart to slow. “Well, it's not so much about  _ braiding  _ your hair, I just really want to touch it,” I explained, earning an eye roll from my best friend. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Raven, you know perfectly well you have the best hair in all of Asgard.” 

Loki thought for a second, then turned to me with a smug smile on his face. “Yes, I know. Alright, you may braid my hair.” 

I let out an involuntary cheer at his words, ignoring his glare. Pushing the Prince of Asgard into a sitting position, I followed suit. I took a moment to admire his silky black locks, fingers tingling with the anticipation of finally being able to run my fingers through them. Not for the first time, I noticed how they seemed to glow in the evening light, like they stole the shine from the sun itself.  _ Their colour compliments his green eyes perfectly _ , I thought.  _ I wonder if he knows just how alluring- _

“You really must love my hair,” Loki gave an amused snort. “Are you ever going to-”

I cut him off with a wicked grin, dragging my fingers roughly through the black strands from his forehead to his back. His head was pulled back from the force, and my breath caught at the expression on his face. His eyes were closed, mouth open, eyebrows pinched ever so slightly together. If it wasn't for the startled groan that escaped him, I would have thought he was in pain. 

The naked emotion was gone almost immediately, replaced by a blush and an embarrassed cough. I didn’t give him a chance to apologize, repeating the action again, a little softer this time. Loki pursed his lips and stared straight ahead, clearly trying to abstain from making any other noises that would show how much he was enjoying this. 

I wasn’t much better off. Seeing him like that was so arousing that I had to discreetly pinch myself to clear my head. It didn’t work. I could do nothing to hide the flush on my skin so I kept him distracted, praying he wouldn’t look at me. His eyes had fluttered closed again, and he had unknowingly leaned into me. I bit my lip, trying my best to keep the butterflies down enough to stop my hands from shaking. 

I knew how good a scalp massage could feel, so I slowed my assault on his hair and started to push gently at his scalp, making sure to pay close attention to his reaction. If this was the only time he would let me have my way with his hair, I was going to draw it out for as long as I could. Loki sighed and relaxed fully into me, surrendering to the sensation. His head fell backward onto my shoulder, and I could have sworn my heart stuttered. 

His vulnerability emboldened me, and I cautiously lay my head on his shoulder, right next to his face. Turning my head into his neck, I breathed him in, fingers busy all the while. He tensed and I cursed myself for thinking I could get away with such an action, but he just took my other free hand and wrapped it around his waist so I would have an easier time supporting myself. 

I was lightheaded. His scent surrounded me, and a tremor ran down my spine. Gods, how I loved him. Not wanting to bore him, I changed tactics, scratching lightly at his scalp. From my position, pressed against his back, nuzzling his neck, I could tell that this was different. This was  _ exactly  _ what he liked. 

I could sense the heat growing in his body. 

I could hear the low purr of pleasure rising up his throat.

I could see that his usually pale skin was tinted pink, but most of all, I could  _ feel  _ his arousal. I felt it in the clench of his hand over mine, the slight arching of his back, the lifting of his chin; an intentional exposure of his neck.

_ Dear Gods,  _ I groaned internally. Was he doing this on purpose? To get me to reveal my true feelings for him? Whatever the reason, something inside me snapped. I’d held my impulses back for a long time now. 

Too long.

With a low growl my only warning, I sank my human teeth into his neck. He jerked and let out a strangled moan as I nipped and sucked on every bit of exposed flesh I could reach, unwilling to let go of him. The hand in his hair became more aggressive, tugging his head further back so I had better access to his neck. My other hand wrenched his body hard against mine, and he gasped at the sudden violence of it. I sighed softly at the taste of him. I couldn’t seem to get enough. We both knew that there wouldn’t be an inch of pale skin left afterward, but he didn’t seem to care. I kissed his throat possessively, satisfied at the sight of the darkening skin before me. 

Well, almost satisfied. 

I ran the hand in front of him slowly up his body. When my fingertips brushed his collarbone, I bit his earlobe and ripped his shirt apart. He inhaled sharply, immediately followed by a low moan as I dragged my nails down his chest, leaving red marks that rivaled those on his neck. 

The sight of his submission made the creature in my blood roar. He arched further back into me as my hand found its way to the waistband of his pants, fingering the material teasingly. My mouth stilled, hovering over his shoulder. 

I needed to watch this. I needed to _ see _ his pleasure. Loki had lifted his head from my shoulder to look at my hand. His breathing was fast and shallow. I could almost hear the pounding of his heart. Slowly,  _ so  _ slowly, I slid my hand beneath the fabric and took him in hand. The moment I touched him, he lurched forward, breath hitching.

The lack of space between us meant that I could feel the delicate trembling of his body, and every agonized sound he made was multiplied tenfold by my close proximity to his mouth. An onlooker would say in a heartbeat that he didn’t want to be there. But I knew better. If Loki didn’t want to be somewhere, he wouldn’t be. It was that simple. 

And he was still here. 

Encouraged by that thought, I began to move my hand, noticing that the velvet texture of his skin seemed to move with me. Loki squeezed his eyes shut and let out a tortured groan, clutching the sheets desperately. I stroked him carefully, adjusting my rhythm based on the frequency and volume of his moans. Then, my lips curved into a smile. Why not have some fun? Stopping my movement completely, I waited until his breathing had calmed somewhat. “Look at me,” I whispered. He turned his head toward me and I pressed my forehead to his, gazing into his dazed eyes. His eyes darted to my mouth and his brow furrowed at my expression. It was all he had time to do. 

A shout burst from his mouth as I suddenly moved my hand up and down his shaft  _ fast,  _ twisting to wring as much pleasure from him as I could. I was delighted that his pleasure showed on his face. His eyes were shut once more, eyebrows pinched, mouth falling open. I couldn’t resist. With the hot breath from his panting washing over me, it was like a gilded invitation. 

I kissed him. Pushing my tongue past his lips, I devoured him, exploring his mouth thoroughly. He returned my passion with his own, surprising me with the naked desire I felt in his kiss. Distracted though I was, I didn’t let up on my actions. He was vocalizing with abandon, each of my movements drawing a fresh whimper or moan. It occurred to me that this might just be the hottest situation I would ever be in. I intended to make it last. 

The rising flush on his chest and the increasing intensity of his cries told me he was close to finishing. So, naturally, I stopped. He gave a disappointed groan and shoved me down onto the bed, pinning me down with his body and kissing me with newfound aggression. 

As much as I was enjoying it, the creature inside me didn't appreciate the show of dominance. Slipping my arm beneath his shoulder, I flipped him with a snarl. The breath was knocked out of him but I showed no mercy, kissing him until we were both dizzy from the heat. I could feel the change in him. 

Instead of fighting it, he allowed my lighter weight to control him, accepting the temporary leash. I was pleased. I kissed my way down to his neck, relaxing my approach. This time, my attention was focused on the thick jugular vein running up his throat. It would have been easily identifiable to a regular person; the bruised colour of the blood vessel stood out against the soft ivory of his skin. But, to me, the vein seemed to glow, pulsing with a life that rivaled the glow of his heart.

With the feral creature in my blood prepared to pounce, I pressed gentle kisses to the surface of the vein, feeling my fangs extend. I let them scrape against his skin, knowing that he would understand what I was asking. He stilled. Considered. Then nodded once, sliding his fingers between mine. Pressing a kiss to his jaw in acknowledgment, I licked my lips and positioned my mouth above his neck. 

We were both holding our breath in anticipation. I squeezed his hand once, then took a deep breath and pushed my fangs through his skin as gently as I could. He screamed out in pain and pleasure as I pumped painkillers and a pleasure-inducing drug into his bloodstream from glands in the roof of my mouth. His back arched violently and I had to place my arms on either side of his body to keep myself steady. I was trembling with the force of holding myself back; I hadn’t taken any blood yet. Then, slowly, tentatively, I took a sip. 

And nearly blacked out from the relief of finally,  _ finally  _ tasting him. I knew I couldn’t take too much blood, so I held him tighter and drank sparingly, savoring the taste as one would an expensive wine. To me, it was  _ exquisite. _ I’d heard rumors that drinking the blood of a lover enhanced the experience, and I’d never been happier that a rumor was proved true. My muscles weakened as the intoxicating liquid slid down my throat; the opposite of what it was supposed to do, but nothing seemed to follow the rules around the God of Mischief.

Loki was shuddering beneath me, moaning brokenly, arms locked around me. Sparks of pure feeling shot out from our twin points of connection, and I held back a whimper of my own at the force of my emotion. 

He trusted me. He was completely at my mercy. One sudden movement and I’d rip out his throat, yet here he was, holding me tight against him, begging wantonly for more. Who was I to refuse? I forced my hand between us and grasped his cock again, feeling a savage rush of delight at the renewed intensity of his gasps. I began to move my hand as much as I could in the limited space, flicking my thumb lightly at the swollen head during each pass. He gave an endearing little jolt each time I did. 

Wanting to cherish the surreal experience, I drank as lightly as my instincts would allow, rolling his blood around in my mouth before swallowing. I stopped pumping pleasure into his bloodstream. I wanted his anticipation to build higher and higher until I let him reach his peak. The hand on his cock, however, didn’t slow in the slightest. It distracted him as I slowly took my fangs out of his neck. I knew he liked a little pain with his pleasure. I recalled his startled groan as I roughly pulled his hair. His reaction as I simulated his over-sensitized cock. So, as I prepared to strike, my breathing came just a little faster at the pleasure I knew he was about to receive. 

My fangs were still dripping chemicals into my mouth, and I cut off the flow of painkillers I’d been giving him this whole time. I watched him closely, and saw that he was getting close to his orgasm. He writhed beneath me, his head thrown back, his hair an absolute mess. I knew his sweet moans would forever be the soundtrack to my dreams. Then, when he was  _ just  _ on the brink of his pleasure, I pierced his skin for the second time that evening.

And he shattered. 

The sharp shock of pain amongst the waves of ecstasy pushed him over the edge. Oh, how I loved the sound of his screams. He twisted and thrashed, chasing the pleasure yet overwhelmed by it at the same time. I lapped at his neck as he raked his nails down my back, flicking my tongue lightly against the broken skin. He hissed at the sting but seemed to welcome it, thrusting faster into my fist to prolong his pleasure. Pulling away from his throat, I watched him fall apart, my breath catching at the dark, sensual beauty of him. I would have him all to myself to admire every day if I could. Instead, I focused on committing every single detail to memory. 

The arching of his neck and back as he cried out his rapture. 

The  _ sound  _ of him, every delicious moan and gasp as a result of my actions.

The elegant contours of his cheekbones, standing out against his skin as his mouth fell open.

The satin feel of him, the  _ taste  _ of him; like I was sinking into heated silk; like I was drinking the sweetest nectar.

The sheen of perspiration coating his neck, his chest. I ran my tongue along his collarbone, my desire for him an ache inside me. Then, after what seemed like minutes of coaxing him through his orgasm, he started to come down. His continuous shudders subsided into tremors; his moans quieted into gentle gasps. I rested my forehead on his, feeling his warm breath on my mouth. He slowly opened his eyes. I searched them for any hint of regret or disgust at what he’d done with me, but found only contentment. He turned onto his side, tugging me into his arms. We lay there, exhausted, sated, basking in the afterglow of our love. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. He buried his face in my neck and sighed. After some time, I felt a soft vibration coming from the man in front of me. It carried a low sound, almost like-

“Are-are you  _ purring?”  _

Loki stopped. Smiled. And purred again. I laughed, shaking my head fondly. 

“You are unbelievable, Raven.” 

He huffed and nuzzled me, his actions reminding me of the time he’d turned into a black cat to tease me. Then the nuzzles turned into kisses and the mood shifted once more. 

  
  
  
“We must do this again sometime, darling,” he purred, the movement of his lips on my skin sending shivers down my spine. “I have yet to touch  _ your  _ hair…”


	2. Chapter 1

_ Several months ago... _

I glared at the broad back of the guard as he walked away, leashing my temper. If they saw even the hint of fangs, they would have me executed. Even though my only crime was that I’d asked for help. When I’d gone to the Allfather to plead for a home, I’d decided to tell him the truth. Everything. He’d listened with the patience and non-judgement one would expect to see from a leader. The moment I’d finished, feeling hopeful that he’d accept me as a new citizen of Asgard, he’d ordered for me to be thrown into the dungeons. ‘Like the monster I was,’ he’d said. 

A monster. 

I didn’t believe I was a monster. Yes, I’d killed before, but not nearly as many as the Allfather had. I’d only lost control of my anger once, and I’d learned from that. It had never happened again. Even starved, with an incapacitated human in front of me, I could walk away. Bloodlust didn’t affect me like it did the others. I could easily live life as a normal human if I wanted to. The only people who knew my true nature were chosen carefully. It seems I’d made a mistake in trusting the Allfather. 

Turning away from the retreating form of the guard, I studied the cell. It looked like I could simply step out, but I knew better than to try. There was no furniture, no entertainment save for the other prisoners. I wondered if I would be given food. Given blood. Contrary to popular belief, blood was not necessary for our survival. It just made us immortal, kept our strength up. But they didn’t know that. Maybe they thought that if they released me, I’d immediately go on a rampage across Asgard, biting everything in my path, flinging bodies everywhere. I laughed at the mental image. They probably believed my eyes would turn red, too.

I wondered what to do. Looking at the other prisoners, they were either sitting or sleeping. All of them had a dead look in their eyes, none showing interest in the only vampire on Asgard. Would I end up like that too? I felt the familiar stirrings of panic beginning to rise. Another panic attack. Another of the many reasons I’d been exiled from my coven. It was a sign of weakness. Well, they weren’t wrong. I quickly sat down against a wall and tried to control my breathing, dropping my head between my knees and squeezing my eyes shut. The darkness always helped to calm me. I knew that if I looked up, I’d see the walls closing in on me. Whenever I had an attack, I always felt as if I had been washed out to sea, buffeted by the rolling waves with no land in sight. I felt an overwhelming sense of despair but forced it down. They would not see me cry. The pressure on my chest worsened but I kept taking deep breaths, using my contact with the wall to ground me. I dug my nails into my arm to try and bring me back to reality.

The waves of suffocating panic slowly started to recede, leaving me gasping on the shore. I stayed in my safe position for a few moments more, taking the time to collect my thoughts and work my nails from my skin. 

“Are you done?” I looked up at the smooth tone, squinting slightly at the light. And jumped in shock at the sight of a man kneeling in front of me. Ignoring him, I scanned the cell carefully. There were no doors as far as I could see. With my heightened senses, I would have heard his footsteps, I was sure of it. I met his expressionless gaze, noticing that his green eyes seemed to lack the light in them that indicated life. Reaching out a hand, I touched his arm. Or tried to. Just as I expected, my hand went right through. I raised an eyebrow at him, mustering up as much courage and dignity as I could after my breakdown. The illusion blinked, looking down at my hand as if in surprise. 

“You don’t look much like a vampire.” This time, the same voice came from outside the invisible bars. I turned automatically towards the source. When I glanced back at the illusion, it was gone. I stood and walked as close to him as I dared. Paying no attention to his words, I looked him up and down, trying to figure out what position he held. He wore an amused smirk, letting me study him. 

He stood with a wide stance and a straight back, I noticed. Even with an invisible wall separating us, I could feel the air of arrogance and authority radiating off him. His clothing looked expensive, with intricate designs on the fabric. However, it also looked durable and tight-fitting. Exactly the type of clothing a General would wear. But there was a cape. It was long and flowing, and seemed to be there for no other reason than to be dramatic. It would be easy to use it as a weapon against him in battle. A General wouldn’t make this kind of mistake. His shoulder-length black hair was styled neatly, with just enough shine to make it look healthy but not oily. Like a raven’s feathers, I thought. The colours of his outfit complimented each other nicely. There was only one position where a man could afford to dress like this without fear for his life. Only one position that allowed him to walk around like he owned the palace without the Allfather reprimanding him.

“Have you come here to kill me, Prince?” I tilted my head challengingly. The smirk grew wider. 

“Shackle her.” 

I didn’t resist as a guard deactivated the dangerous entrance to put iron chains around my wrists. Did they know I could easily break free? I was led out of the cell, brought face to face with the prince. He lifted my chin with one finger, peering at my mouth. 

“No fangs?” He asked. I smiled mirthlessly, showing my very human teeth. His eyes widened as I slowly extended my fangs, pulling my lips back in a halfhearted snarl. He met my eyes again, but this time I caught a hint of approval in his gaze. Then I felt a blow to the back of my knees. They buckled and I winced when I hit the ground, my bound hands preventing me from breaking my fall. The prince whipped his head around and flung his hand out, a bolt of green light knocking the offending guard away. He didn’t look angry, just mildly inconvenienced. Taking my arm, he helped me up. His eyes narrowed slightly at the crescent-shaped marks on my skin. He looked back at me and I held his searching look, too tired and hungry to bother to explain. Then, without warning, he turned and walked away, tugging the chain that bound my hands. I had no choice but to follow. 

We emerged into the golden throne room, leaving the dungeons behind us. The Allfather was waiting. I pointedly ignored him, staring resolutely at the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a burly man with long golden hair flipping a hammer. Another prince? I frowned. Looking back and forth between him and my escort, I could find no similarities between them. The only qualities they shared were their status and their arrogance. Without warning, the other prince yeeted his hammer at me. In the split second before it struck me, I had a decision to make. My reflexes were easily fast enough to safely catch the hammer. But do I reveal my true skills? Or get hit in the face by the solid hammer thrown by a man who looked like he could lift me with one finger? When I put it that way, there was only one answer.

I stepped to the side and grabbed the handle, snatching it out of the air. It was lighter than it looked. An electric charge seemed to run through me, filling me with strength I’d only experienced once; when I’d joined my coven in a massacre. I turned the weapon in my hands, looking at it curiously. It had clearly seen much violence, and bore the scars of its battles. Then I noticed the complete silence in the room. The owner of the hammer was staring at me with comically wide eyes, looking as if he would faint any second. In fact, everyone was. Even the Allfather and my raven-haired escort had slack jaws. I was confused, to say the least. Didn’t they already know that vampires had quick reflexes? The other prince raised a shaking hand, holding it out to me desperately. I tilted my head, even more bemused. Was he expecting me to give it back? He dropped his hand after a few moments, stumbling backwards. I chanced a look at the Allfather. He had leaned forward in his throne, a dangerous glint in his eye. He looked at me like I was a toy, an experiment. 

“You-” he began, but was interrupted by the other prince’s roar. 

“YES!” His booming voice filled the room. It seemed he’d overcome his shock and was at my side, patting me heartily on the back. “I am Thor, son of Odin. Who are you, and what have you done to be worthy of Mjolnir?” 

“I am Elvira, and I have no idea what you are talking about, Prince.” His change of heart was disconcerting. One moment he was trying to kill me and the next he was treating me like an old friend? Whatever the reason, I was glad to be on the good side of two of the kingdom’s princes. “I see you have met my brother Loki.” Thor turned and grinned at my escort. “Do not despair, brother. Mjolnir will accept you someday.” Loki ignored Thor and was giving me an intrigued look. I felt a tickle in my mind. 

I was no stranger to magic. Where I was from, they taught everyone at a young age to shield their minds. My shields had always been special. Loki’s magic took the shape of a dark spear, worming its way towards my thoughts. I pretended not to notice and struck up a conversation with his brother, curious about his hammer. I knew what Loki would see. An open and unguarded mind, free for the taking. The spear came ever closer. Until…

“Ah!” Loki dropped to one knee, clutching his forehead. I feigned concern. 

“What’s wrong?” I squeezed his shoulder; a warning and a pardon. He looked up at me, blatant surprise on his face. The Allfather interrupted the moment.

“Enough! We will continue with the trial,” he ordered. “Prisoner, give Mjolnir back to Thor.” I shrugged and passed the hammer back to the prince, then turned to face my fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure if I should make this into a proper fic or not, so please tell me if you actually like it and want to see more :)

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fanfic so don't come at me too hard :)


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